


Convolutions

by Ryne



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryne/pseuds/Ryne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection examining the relationship between Merlin and Uther through the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mad King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uther was a force in Merlin’s life long before he left Ealdor.

The day before Merlin left for Camelot, Will woke him at dawn by kicking him in the leg and dropping a fishing rod on his face before storming out again. It was the first time he’d seen Will — really, properly seen him — since he’d told him he was leaving, because Will had been stubbornly avoiding him ever since, and so Merlin resisted the urge to tell him to shove off and let him sleep, and followed him out a minute later, cramming a bit of bread in his pocket for breakfast.

They hiked out to the river and hunted for worms on the bank, which usually meant dirt rubbed in each other’s eyes and worms shoved down the backs of each other’s shirts, but Will was still glowering at everything except Merlin and Merlin didn’t feel quite up to being murdered this morning by pushing his luck, so for the first time in memory it was a solemn, quick affair, and they baited their hooks and settled in for the morning before the mist had cleared over the water.

A heavy silence still hung between them, keeping Merlin uncomfortable and awake, because he didn’t know why Will was so angry with him and so he didn’t know what to say to fix it. Instead they sat stiffly side-by-side for hours, catching nothing but weeds and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, and Merlin had never felt so miserably awkward around his friend in his life, not even after Will had finally learned about his magic and Merlin had hovered in a terrified state of not knowing whether his secret was safe with Will or not and tried not to call Will all sorts of names for leaving him like that for a week, just in case it wasn’t.

“Don’t get caught by the mad king,” Will said suddenly, fiercely, still refusing to look at him and glaring out over the water instead. “Don’t you dare get caught.”

And suddenly Merlin understood. He could read it in the set of Will’s shoulders, in the white-knuckled grip he had on his fishing rod, in his silence in the last few days. 

Will was afraid. 

His whole life Merlin had been warned against Uther Pendragon, taught to never draw attention to himself or his powers so that the mad king of Camelot wouldn’t catch him. He had cast a shadow over Merlin’s life since the second he had shown signs of magic as an infant. He was the bogeyman of his childhood, only this monster was real — he wasn’t some nightmare that could be chased away with age and daylight, because he loomed larger with every passing year as Merlin outgrew the childish fear of a story and felt true terror settle into his bones with the knowledge that there really was someone out there who would execute him for his very nature. 

And now that Merlin’s magic had grown out of control, now that he was struggling to hide it as it spilled out of him — now he was walking into the lion’s den, and Will, who had harbored his secret without question, who had come to hate Uther on Merlin’s behalf with fearsome intensity — Will could do nothing to stop him. All he could do was wait at home with Hunith for the news of Merlin’s execution, and then Merlin would be gone without even a goodbye, just like Will’s da in the war, and his mam and sister when the sickness took them.

“I won’t be caught,” he answered, his throat suddenly very constricted. “That’s why I’m going — to learn control, yeah? I’ll be able to hide it better than ever. And I probably won’t ever see him, anyway.”

“Yeah,” croaked Will, his voice sounding suspiciously tight as well. “What would your ugly mug be doing in a castle?”

And even though Merlin dumped him in the river after that, and Will dragged him in with him; even though the awkwardness and anger dissipated and the day ended in laughter; still, the next morning when Will showed up in Merlin’s garden to see him off, he hugged him hard and long and whispered, “Be careful,” in his ear, and Merlin could only nod, throat tight once again, because they both knew no matter how careful he was it wouldn’t matter in the end, because they called Uther _the mad king_ for a reason.


	2. The Face of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin finally meets Uther.

Merlin was still shaking hours after he had gone to bed.

The rest of the evening had passed in a blur after the reality of his actions set in. He had seen that Arthur was in danger and he hadn’t even thought about it — he didn’t even stop to think that the prince was a bully and an enemy, he didn’t think of the dragon’s words of destiny, he simply _acted_ , because someone was in danger and he had the ability to stop it. And so he’d done magic in front of the whole court, easier and more natural than breathing, and with it he’d killed a woman — gods, he’d _killed someone_ — but it was not this that set his knees atremble, that made his mind go blank with terror so that he could not even remember what had happened after being appointed as the prince’s servant.

_He’d done magic in front of the king._

Will was going to kill him. 

Hadn’t he promised him that he’d be careful? Hadn’t he spent that last day trying to convince his friend that he’d be alright, assuring him that the mad king would never notice him, that he wouldn’t attract attention? And then he’d gone and done just that, for someone Will wouldn’t even consider worth the effort, right after he had watched his very first execution. And had Uther been just a little more observant — if he had questioned Merlin just a little more closely about how he’d gotten to Arthur so quickly... well, then the second execution he’d have seen would’ve been his own, and he’d have truly broken all of his promises.

He had looked into the face of death today. He had looked at death from afar and from up close, and had been surprised each time at its human countenance. All these years he’d pictured Uther Pendragon as some sort of monster, but now he knew that he was a man like any other, with greying hair and crow’s feet around his eyes, just like his own mother. And just like his mother, Uther Pendragon loved his son.

For some reason this terrified Merlin more than anything — that such a man, such a monster was capable of love. Because that meant that he _was_ human, after all, if he could feel such a deep and powerful emotion, if he could look at Merlin with such awe and relief because he’d saved his son’s life. It shook Merlin to the core to realize that the king had the capacity to love, to laugh, to show kindness and gratitude, because he had cast such deep and lasting darkness over Merlin’s life, over the lives of all those with magic, that it was utterly unfathomable that he was also capable of light.

And now he had to face this paradox every day, this smiling, human contradiction who would kill him for the very actions for which he had rewarded him, if only he knew the truth. But Merlin could not fade back into the safe shadows of anonymity, not now that Uther had cast his light on him; yet he could not remain in the brightness, for fear that it would throw his secrets into sharp relief.

Yet it was a risk that he would have to take — it was a risk that he had been taking, ever since he first drew breath, and now that he had a purpose in life, the risk seemed worth it. He had looked into the face of death today, and walked away unscathed — perhaps there was hope that the light would blind even its source so that he could do so once again.


	3. The Last Good Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin heals Uther from Edwin's spell. Set in 1x06.

He left Edwin’s corpse dripping blood in the antechamber and followed Gaius to Uther’s side.  
  
He hadn’t wanted to kill Edwin. The man had been kind to him — more than that; he’d been a teacher of sorts, in ways that Gaius couldn’t, in ways that the old man was too afraid to be, after all he’d lived through and seen. And it was, after all, for Gaius that Merlin had sent an axe through Edwin’s skull, which had split like an overripe melon, spewing grey and red—  
  
But he couldn’t think of that or he would vomit, and so he remembered Arthur moments earlier — was it only moments earlier? — panicked and desperate in the hallway, telling him, “My father has Morgana’s illness.” And he remembered Morgana’s face, pale against her pillow, and her shallow breathing that grew more and more faint as the days passed, and thought that maybe he could right Edwin’s wrongs, his misguided wrongs, because it was his fault that he was—  
  
 _No_ , he told himself firmly, killing those thoughts as easily as —  _No. Concentrate_.  
  
And so he picked up Edwin’s box and listened to Gaius’ explanations, focusing on the here-and-now, focusing so hard on  _fixing things_  that it wasn’t until he saw Uther’s face that he realized what he was about to do.  
  
“We can't use magic on Uther, he'd kill us,” Merlin protested, drawing back, but Gaius didn’t seem to care about that — didn’t he care about Merlin’s life at all? — and suddenly he wondered why he  _had_  killed Edwin. The man had been mad, of course; wanting to rule, offering Merlin a place beside him — that was madness. But killing Uther...  
  
“If you don't, he's going to die.”  
  
...would that really be so wrong?  
  
Uther had  _massacred_  his people. Uther had had them hunted and tortured and slaughtered and slain, raped and plundered and demonized beyond all hope of redemption, and now he lay at Merlin’s mercy, defenseless and unknowing, and all Merlin had to do was nothing. Edwin had already done the work, poor Edwin, whom Merlin had killed for threatening the wrong man in front of him, whose blood Merlin would scrub off the floors later on when this was all over, and now Merlin just needed to let Edwin’s spell run its course, and they would have their vengeance.  
  
But then Merlin glanced at Gaius, who looked wrecked and despondent as he watched his sleeping king, just as much as Arthur had when he’d told Merlin about his father’s state. And this gave Merlin pause, because Uther wasn’t family to Gaius; Uther was his king and his friend, and yet Gaius seemed devastated by his imminent death. But maybe it wasn’t such a great mystery; Gaius was, after all, living proof that Uther’s intolerance was not complete. Merlin didn’t know why Uther had spared him — he hadn’t asked, would never ask, because some things were just too personal — but perhaps it was enough that he  _had_. And there were others who loved him, others to whom he was not a nightmare made flesh, and — and Arthur wasn’t ready to be king.  
  
But above all, Merlin was not made for passivity. He did not consider himself a killer, but apparently he was — moving to Camelot had turned him into one, and tonight especially proved it. But he had never killed someone in cold blood before; he had never looked down at a sleeping man and judged him for his sins and decided, _Yes, now he must die_. He was not yet that far gone from the Merlin who had moved from Ealdor, although he knew he was not quite the same. And so he would heal Uther, because he could; he would show him the goodness of magic, if he could; and if he failed then he would stand in front of him and deliver his vengeance face-to-face, when Uther was conscious and cowering, because he  _should_.   
  
For now, though, he would wait.   
  
And so Edwin’s body cooled outside while his killer destroyed his last good act. Merlin had far too much blood on his hands tonight, but he laid those hands on the murderer in front of him and could not tell if he absolved or damned himself further.


End file.
